


I Only Have Eyes For You

by zjofierose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - High School, Dancing, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Fem!Keith, Fluff, Football Player Shiro (Voltron), High School, Innocence, Keith is still a loner with a heart of gold, Teenagers, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans!Keith, True Love, but a little less hurt, shiro is the best boyfriend, teenage love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 18:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17493455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: It's an early summer evening in late 50's LA, and all Keith wants is to dance with her boyfriend as the sun goes down.





	I Only Have Eyes For You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic brought to you by the guy with the very slick black 50's truck who was playing Smokey Robinson and the Miracles as I walked through the city the other night.
> 
> NB: the 50's would have been an un-fun time to be non-white, non-cis, non-straight. This fic is not about that. In this world, there is no systematic assholery, and the only angst is because being a teenager is tough.
> 
> MANY thanks to @warpspeed_chic and @regretsonmain for the cheerleading and the beta!

The morning dawns hot and clear, the sun rising to heat Keith’s upstairs bedroom to an uncomfortable degree by six am. She lies in her small bed as it gets light, hears her father rustling around downstairs as he gets ready to go for his shift at the firehouse. She’s got chores to do, but school’s only been out a week, so she stays in bed until the sun’s fully risen and she hears her pa’s truck go rumbling off into the distance, watching dispassionately as beads of sweat form on her bare skin. 

Eventually she gets up and dresses in her coveralls, tying a scarf around her hair to keep it up and out of the way. She heads downstairs and eats a breakfast of eggs and bacon, cleaning the kitchen when she’s done before making her way out back to glance over her options for the day. Her pa takes in mechanic work on the side of his volunteer shifts with the local fire department and his regular job with the county, and he lets her help when she’s not busy with schoolwork. Even better, he lets Keith keep the money from anything she fixes. 

This week they’ve got a Triumph TR6 and the McClaines’ broken down Maytag to work on, both half disassembled already with parts strewn neatly around. The Triumph will do nicely, she thinks, and grabs a wrench.

\--

She breaks for lunch, but otherwise works through until around four in the afternoon when she wipes her hands on her pant legs and goes inside to get the washtub. Her pa’s on a twelve hour shift and their nearest neighbors are more than a mile down the road, so she fills it from the pump and carries it inside, setting it in the main room and stripping without modesty or ceremony to step into the metal tub. The cold water is heaven on her sticky and overheated skin, raising goosebumps as she settles into it, her knees up under her chin as she uses a cloth to clean the sweat from her skin. 

Keith lingers in the bath, but not for too long. She’s got a limited amount of time left to get ready for the evening ahead, so she climbs out before she can get pruney and dries off, emptying the tub onto the vegetable garden out back. Filling a bucket, she dunks her head and washes her hair with her good shampoo, scrubbing vigorously to remove any trace of engine grease or dirt. Once clean, she drags a comb through it and lets it dry till it’s only damp, then rolls it swiftly into curlers that she ties up with a thin scarf to dry while she gets dressed. 

Shiro’s coming back tonight, and the knowledge tingles under her skin like carbonation, bubbling up and making her giddy as she holds a dress in front of herself and frowns at the oval mirror. He’s only been away for a week, gone to LA proper to interview for a spot at UCLA and try out for their football team, but she’s missed him fiercely, used to seeing him every day at school and even more on the weekends, and she wants to look her best when she sees him again. The nerves bubble up again, and it’s ridiculous that she’s feeling this way, but it doesn’t matter how long they’ve been together - any time she sees Shiro, she gets butterflies.

She’s almost afraid to admit how happy she’ll be to have him back, she thinks, coming to a decision and pulling on her clothes. It’s only been three years that they’ve known each other, that they’ve been together, but it feels like her entire life. 

Keith smiles into the mirror, letting herself remember how Shiro asked her out the first day they met, her first day of her freshman year: Lotor bet Lance that no girl in school knew how to hotwire a car, and Keith delighted in proving him very, very wrong, only to come face to face with the devastatingly handsome boy whose truck she just liberated for a joyride. He took one look at her and breathed out, “ _ marry me. _ ” 

It turned out to be only the first of countless times he would ask her, in jest, in seriousness, in class, on dates, always in good humor, never bothered when she just shakes her head at him. That first time she blinked at him in utter bewilderment, so he threw back his head and laughed, then asked her out on the spot instead. She was too stunned by the sight of him in front of her to do anything other than gasp out a questioning “ _ yes _ ?”

She had expected him to change his mind immediately, or at least within a week, or then within the month. Honestly, there’s a small, secret part of her that still expects it even now as she carefully applies her lipstick, readying herself to see him again. 

People don’t really give her much trouble, their school is too small to make enemies worth having; they’re all in each other’s pockets all the time so they mostly get along. Still, Keith knows what the town thinks of her, knows they think that she can’t have grown up right out there in the little house in the desert with just her pa. She knows that she’s too quick to judge, too sharp with her tongue and too good with her fists when challenged, that she’s tall and lanky with almond eyes and a pointy chin. She’d expected Shiro to come to his senses, to see Allura, or Romelle, or even just realize how much better he is than Keith and then move on.

Three years later and he never has, and at some point he became her whole world. 

\-----

The sun is setting in a fat orange disc to the west as Keith pulls up to the abandoned concrete lot on her cherry-red Schwinn cruiser and kicks the stand down to lean it carefully at the edge of the pavement. It’s a decent ride from her place out in the desert, and she knows Hunk or Lance would pick her up in their trucks if she asked, but she likes the ride, likes the feel of the hot, dry, wind in her face, the sight of the shadows lengthening, the changing light turning the desert from neutral browns and greys to red and gold. 

Still, it’s May in Southern California, and thus blisteringly hot even this late in the day, so she gratefully accepts an ice-cold coke from Pidge, pressing the frosted glass to her wrists to cool her pumping blood. 

“Good ride?” Pidge asks, and Keith nods, setting the bottle down so she can pull off the overshirt protecting her lily-white halter top and use it to brush the dust off her saddle shoes.

“Yeah,” Keith smiles back, shoving the shirt into her bike basket and untying her kerchief. Freed, her black curls tumble around her shoulders in an inky spill, the faint scent of jasmine wafting out into the warm evening. “Quiet.”

“You look great, Kee,” Pidge says softly, and Keith can feel herself blushing. “He’s gonna be so glad to see you.”

“Thanks,” she says, bumping Pidge’s shoulder companionably with her elbow. “Gonna be the usual crowd tonight?”

“Yeah,” Pidge grins slyly, “Except I ran into Allura when Mom made me go to the hairdressers yesterday, and I told her to come.”

Keith’s eyes widen. Allura, head cheerleader and student body president of Altea High, is all shining silver hair and gracious smiles. Keith doesn’t know her well, but she and Shiro end up spending a decent amount of time together as co-valedictorians, Homecoming Queen and King, and generally the most popular kids in school. Otherwise Allura seems to mostly keep her own company, much to Lance’s continual dismay.

“Think she’ll come?” Keith asks curiously, and Pidge shrugs. 

“Said she would. Don’t think she’d have any reason to lie, really.”

“Lance isn’t going to know whether to kiss you or kill you,” Keith says with a laugh, and Pidge’s responding grin is devilish. 

“Wanna get in on the betting?”

“ _ No _ ,” Keith shoves her kerchief into the basket with her overshirt and reclaims her soda, taking a long drink and letting the condensation run down her chin, watching as Pidge skips back to Hunk’s giant yellow Chevy flatbed. She’s as much of an oddball as Keith in her own way, short sandy hair practically levitating off her head and lime-green pedal-pushers smudged with grease, but she and Keith have been thick as thieves since grade school, and Keith can’t think of anyone she’d rather have as a girlfriend. 

Pidge climbs the side of Hunk’s trunk like a monkey, shouting something to Hunk that Keith’s too far away to hear. He shouts back, his grin blinding in the fading light, and turns the engine over. The strains of the local top-40 station fill the empty air, the twang of guitars and gentle rhythm of the drums transforming the space from a dusty parking lot just off the county highway to a chilled-out getaway. 

Lance pulls up in a roar of dust and exhaust, his powder-blue Bel-Air hardtop growling as he positions it diagonal to Hunk’s, the better to illuminate the space when the sun goes down. He pops his trunk just as Nyma and Rollo pull up, closely followed by Pidge’s brother Matt, and it’s not long before a series of narrow metal poles encircle the pavement, supporting strings of globe lights. Coolers of soda and beer get opened and laid on Hunk’s tailgate, and the music shifts from steel guitar to doo-wop as the sun sinks steadily into the ocean twenty miles to the west. 

Keith hangs back, nursing her coke and swinging her legs from her perch on Lance’s hood, watching as Rollo grabs Nyma and swings her around the circle, laughing as they go. 

The low rumble of a familiar engine echoes through the desert, and Keith’s heart leaps into her throat. She smooths her hands over her skirt, fiddles with the lace ties of her halter. She’d been a little hesitant about wearing it, not sure about how it emphasizes the width of her shoulders, but Shiro loves her bare skin, loves to run his hands over her exposed shoulders and back. He’s never cared that she’s the tallest girl in her class, that she’s all long limbs and flat chest, that she punched James Griffin so hard she broke his nose last year, or that she’s the fastest sprinter on the track team. 

Keith’s planning on playing it cool, so she watches calmly as he parks and gets out, greeting everyone one with a nod and a smile. Then all at once something clicks, that he’s there in front of her but too far away, and she’s up and moving before she quite knows what she’s doing. He catches her eye and opens his arms, and suddenly she’s sprinting across the hot cement between them and leaping into his ready hold, his delighted laughter ringing in her ears as he holds her tight and spins her around. 

“Miss me much?” Shiro chuckles, setting her down slowly, and she rolls her eyes. 

“No,” she answers, and his smile gets impossibly wider. He’s stupidly handsome in his leather jacket and tight pegged jeans, dark hair slicked back over his head and his eyes dancing in the fading light. Keith finds herself incredulous all over again that she gets to have him.

“That’s too bad,” he says, amusement thick in his tone as he drags her up against him and tucks her securely under his arm, “I guess I’ll just have to go back to LA all alone then, since I’m not missed here.”

Keith scowls and slips her fingers into Shiro’s belt, making him laugh again and press a kiss to the top of her head. She curls herself into the space at his side and goes along, content to simply bask in his presence after so many days apart, stepping back occasionally as he trades handshakes and back-slaps with the other guys, hugs and cheek kisses with the girls, then sliding back in under his arm to let him hold her close as the sun finishes its descent and night begins to fall. 

Not long after Shiro’s arrival a deep purple Chevy Apache pulls up and Allura climbs delicately out, her shining hair crowning her head in ornate braids and her jumpsuit unwrinkled from the ride. She slams the door behind her and waves as it pulls off into the gathering dark, then turns and walks into the circle of light. 

There’s a moment of surprised silence, but Pidge recovers first, bouncing over to greet Allura and offer her a drink. It breaks the ice enough that everyone else either goes to say hi or goes back to what they were doing, and the gentle hubbub of music and conversation rises again to fill the warm night air. Keith can see Hunk and Rollo giving a nervous looking Lance a pep talk in the shadow of Rollo’s ride, and rolls her eyes. Lance’ll figure it out, she thinks, and turns her attention back to Shiro. 

“Wanna dance?” he asks, his soft grey eyes finding hers, and she nods, letting him pull her out into the open space in front of them, swaying to the tempo that booms from Hunk’s speakers. He looks like a dream, his white button-front shirt short-sleeved and open at the neck, jacket abandoned on the hood of his truck. Maybe it’s shallow, but she thinks he’s the handsomest man she’s ever seen, and can never decide if she would rather stare at him in awe or put her hands all over him instead.

_ “Come little darlin’, come and go with me, _ ” he sings in her ear, hand strong around her waist, and she can’t help but laugh as he spins her around. 

“Did you have a good trip?” she asks, letting him spin her into the twist as the music changes, mirroring his moves with her body. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, his whole face lighting up, “yeah, they want me. Made me an offer.”

“Really?” Keith smacks at his chest in her excitement, “that’s so great, Shiro!”

He pushes her out to spin her under his arm, then reels her back in, catching her against his hip. “Yeah. The astrophysics department is admitting me as an honors student starting in the fall, and the football team’s going to give me a full scholarship.”

“ _ Shiro _ , oh my god.” Keith stands abruptly still, ignoring Matt’s grumble as he narrowly misses bumping into them. “That’s  _ incredible _ . You get to move back to the city again. And a full ride?” She drags his head down and kisses him hard before pulling back and catching his gaze. “I’m so proud of you, Shiro.”

He doesn’t answer, but leans in and kisses her back, his mouth warm and firm against hers, hands gripping solidly on her waist. The smell of his cologne makes her dizzy with want, but this is neither the time nor place, so she lets him pull back and rest their foreheads together when Hunk lets out a wolf-whistle from across the way. She wants to drown in the quicksilver of his grey eyes, can’t seem to stop rubbing her hands across the back of his hair and down his neck. 

He kisses her again, soft and lingering, then takes her hand in his, wrapping his arm back around her waist and setting them moving again. The song has changed again to a slow one.  Keith lets herself rest her head against Shiro’s shoulder and drift in the moment, focusing on the feel of Shiro’s arms around her, steadfastly refusing to think of what it will be like to spend the next year without him. 

“I went and saw my grandparents,” he says, and she nods against his neck. She’d figured he would. 

“How are they?” She remembers them fondly from the one time he’d taken her to visit their small house in Little Tokyo. The orange trees had been blooming, and his tiny grandmother had smelled of their blossoms and the fragrant tea she’d served them.

“They’re good,” Shiro says, “it was really good to see them again. Coach Iverson’s been very generous to take me in for the past four years and let me play here, but…”

“But you’ll be glad to move back home,” Keith says, because she knows it’s true. Iverson recruited Shiro to be the star quarterback of their tiny town’s team, offered him the chance to play a role he wouldn’t get at a larger school, to help train and guide and lead a group of players, to make them the best he could. Shiro’s led Altea Lions to state the past three years, but he’s never stopping missing his grandparents and the little house he grew up in down by the river.

“I will,” Shiro agrees.

Keith can hear that there’s something else he’s thinking of, something he’s holding back. She lets him think, melting into his arms and smiling as he hums in her ear. It’s their song playing now, the first one they ever danced to, the one that was on the jukebox when Shiro took her nervous fifteen-year-old self into his arms and held her close for the first time, said her name just so and tipped her whole world on its side. Shiro guides them to the edge of the circle, and Keith relaxes into the tune, letting him move her in small circles as the more lively couples chase each other around the lit space. 

“While I was there,” he starts, and Keith hums to acknowledge that she’s listening. “I’ve saved up a lot of money, working at Sal’s the past few years.” 

It’s a bit of a non sequitur, but Keith nods anyway. “Yeah, even though I told you someone would give you a scholarship.” She pokes him in the collar bone, and he laughs, ducking down to capture her finger in his teeth briefly before letting it go to continue speaking. 

“I’d saved up some money,” he repeats, and he sounds nervous. Keith frowns. Shiro’s not a nervous guy just generally, and especially never with her. “The couple who lived in the house behind my grandparents moved down to San Diego,” he says, and he’s talking fast now, trying to finish his thought before something interrupts, “so the house was up for sale, and I had this money, but with a full ride, I don’t need it all, and I can always get another weekend job if I need to.”

“Shiro,” she starts, not quite sure what she’s hearing, “what are you saying?”

“I bought the house,” Shiro says softly, holding her close to his chest so she can’t see his face. “Come with me, Keith,” he says, and she catches her breath hard, only his grip on her as they move to the music keeping her in place, “don’t stay here. Come with me.”

“What about school?” she asks faintly, her mind reeling. “I still have a year left.”

“Take the GED this summer, you can start college with me in the fall,” Shiro answers, and she can feel the slightest tremble in his hands where they rest on her body. Keith knows her fingers are clutching at the back of Shiro’s collar, but she can’t seem to loosen her grip. Around them the desert is cooling, the night winds picking up as the roll down from the mountains to the north and east. A coyote yips in the distance and the deep twilight highlights the pale planes of Shiro’s face. 

“My pa,” she whispers, “it would be wrong to leave him here alone.”

“Bring him,” Shiro says without hesitation, “my grandparents are talking about renting out my old room, or he can live with us. If he doesn’t like that, we can fix up the garage for him for now, and save some money to buy him a place in a year.”

Keith goes quiet for a long moment, trying to wrap her mind around what Shiro’s offering her: a future, a life with someone she loves, with someone who loves her completely and unconditionally, who has always supported her and stood up for her. Someone who makes her laugh, and feel safe, and who makes her want to be a better person. It’s something she’s never imagined for herself; even in the years they’ve been together; she’s always quietly assumed that Shiro would go away eventually, that the world would see his talent, his charm and genius, and take him up and she would be left behind in the dust, lucky to have known him at all. 

She can see it, that’s the thing: a small house in the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood where his grandparents live. Waking next to Shiro in the morning and preparing breakfast for them both, studying together each night at a small table after dinner, the scent of orange blossoms wafting through the room. Weekends spent driving in his sleek black truck, going to the coast or the mountains or the desert with their friends, nights spent wrapped in Shiro’s arms. 

“Ask me,” she blurts suddenly, pulling back to look him in the eyes and gripping at his shirt. “You’re always  _ asking _ , but you haven’t tonight. Do you mean it, Shiro?” Her eyes are blurry, and she’s not sure if it’s because she’s happy or terrified. She can feel his breath stutter in his chest, his hands almost painfully tight on her hips. 

“Keith Kogane,” he says slowly, holding her gaze and moving them still to the music like he couldn’t stop if he wanted to, “will you marry me?”

He’s asked her a hundred times in the last three years, but he’s never said it quite like this, with his tone so gentle and so tense. Keith’s heart tries to beat out of her chest as she gets herself together enough to nod furiously, and then immediately burst into tears.

“Yes,” she gasps out before burying her head in Shiro’s chest, letting him run his hands soothingly over her back as they sway.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers, his hands and voice devastatingly gentle, “those tears better be happy ones.” He chuckles under his breath, but she can hear the tightness in his voice, can feel the tenderness of the kisses he drops on her head, her cheek, her mouth. “Promise, Keith? You’ll come with me? Say it again.”

Keith lifts her head, meeting his eyes as the stars twinkle above them, lifting her hands to capture his face and hold it, thumbs tracing the shapes of his cheekbones, his eyebrows as she nods. 

“As many times as you need,” she breathes, bringing their foreheads together and closing her eyes. “ _ Yes _ .”

 


End file.
